


Starstuck

by NackNack



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: AU, Multi, Sci-Fi, but there are too many people and ships to tag, most of the cast is in this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-03-28
Updated: 2012-08-29
Packaged: 2017-11-02 15:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/370343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NackNack/pseuds/NackNack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The human race is under attack by Alternian aliens, and it's up to John and Dave, team fighting members to fend them off. The two sides continue to face off, but just how many casualties must there be before the war ends? Sci-Fi AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The alarm's voice buzzed in the ears of the scrambling mass beneath it. The siren bathed the metal walls with red light as it flashed quickly, loudly. The people below it moved just as swiftly, each to their designated place. Those with no business fighting scrambled to their living quarters in the core of the base while the warriors sprinted towards their respective vessels. Still more people rushed towards the control room, for without their constant supervision, the pilots were helpless. Who would know when they suffered injuries if they weren't closely monitored?

Another siren, but this one was drowned out by the sound of engines as the pilots and their ships rose to hover above the ground. The lights changed to a flashing white to signal that they were allowed to deploy, and every single vessel shot from the hanger. The counterattack had begun.

Simultaneously, personnel dubbed as "Monitors" rushed to their positions, donning headsets, quickly pressing holographic keys, and talking excitedly. They were the second eyes of the pilot, each paired to a specific ship. Every occurrence, every hit the ship took, every injury the warrior received was displayed upon the screen before them. Each one made contact with their partner, letting them know that if anything to falter, they were there to fix it.

One such dark haired boy sat at his station, clicking buttons madly, his blue eyes flicking quickly around behind his thick glasses. He sat at a special station, set slightly apart from the others. Normally this would be a cause of interest for the other occupants of the room, yet now that lives were on the line, everyone was completely focused on that situation at hand. The esteemed Monitor spoke quickly to his pilot, filling him in on the details as quickly as he possibly could.

"…coming in from the right fast. There's at least twenty of them, or at least that's what our radar is saying. Be careful out there. You know he could be in the formation…" The timid Monitor often feared for his pilot, especially if there was a chance that their largest threat would be in the fray.

From his seat within the starship, the pilot responded. "Yeah, I know, John. I'll be fine. You know I'm too cool to die."

John shook his head quickly, fully aware his pilot couldn't see him. "Dave. I'm being serious. You know how hard it is to shake him! He's nearly totaled your ship three times!"

"And how many times have I ripped his apart?" The question was low, nearly growled. The albino pilot hated nothing more than his mysterious enemy. They had never managed to get a visual of the damned flier, but Dave thought of little else once he was in his cockpit. Whenever there was an attack that included that fucker, it seemed that he always went for Dave, and it seemed that just as many times, the mysterious ship followed him no matter what maneuvers he performed. The only sure thing Dave had on his side was his speed. It was a last ditch sort of thing, but it had saved his life more than once.

He could see the approaching ships, and his red eyes flashed. Ripping off his sunglasses, he prepared himself for battle. A left hand flipped three switches as he conversed with John. "I'm about to go in. I see the ships. Any orders from up top?"

"No, just the standard attack message," John answered quickly. His mind was only half with Dave as he quickly scanned the visual streaming from the ship. Was their enemy in the hostile formation? Where was that feared vessel? "Do you see him anywhere?" he asked, flustered. The threat always put a little nervous flutter in his stomach. With a quick gesture, he routed power to Dave's weapons and shields, distributing them precisely how he knew his partner preferred: seventy offensive, thirty defensive.

The two enemy battalions floated before each other in the darkness of space, waiting for the other to make the first move. Dave and John could spot several familiar vessels, ones that had destroyed too many friends in the past. The Alternian race was a hostile and ruthless one, and that meant that battles between the two species were incredibly frequent. Yet now they remained at a standstill, waiting for the humans to fire first.

Dave shifted in his chair, fingering his controls. "This is taking too long. John, get ready to do a beautiful fucking cannonball into these space bitches."

"Dave! No-!" but John could already see Dave's hands moving, preparing for an attack. Instinctually, John shifted to perform his own complimentary actions; he knew precisely what Dave wanted to do. It wasn't up to him to decide whether or not it was a good idea. John's job was merely to follow his pilot's orders and protect him.

And so the ship's core was tapped, energy pouring through the vessel. "Three…two…" Dave smirked, clutching his controls. Back at the base, John cringed, leaning forward, anticipating the movement. He was scared. He was so scared for his partner.

"…One."

With that, the albino clamped down on his controls. In a burst of energy, his ship shot forward towards the fighters in the back, barreling straight through the Alternian ranks. It was such a quick movement that the first few alien pilots had no time to react before Dave shot past them. It was a common strategy of the race to send their weak men out first and reserve the better fighters for desperate times by placing them in the back. This was something the humans knew well, and Dave aimed for the dead center of the rear row. If he was going to fight, he was going to attack those with power. It was a reckless move, but it was just how he did things.

"Nine!" The shout came from John. Accordingly, Dave turned to his nine-o-clock position to see what John had spotted. Although the first few Alternian pilots had been taken off guard by his advance, the few seconds it took him to get through to the back few ranks had given the more experienced ships time to arm themselves. Now one opened fire at the albino's left.

Moving quickly, John shifted shield power to concentrate on the alien's intended target. This was risky, since Dave was flying in the middle of several dozen ships that could attack at any given moment, but if he didn't reroute the power, it was possible his pilot could get damaged. "Careful, Dave!"

Nodding, Dave watched the attack glance off of his shields. Moving his left hand to operate the controls on his left viewing wall, he fired off two expertly-aimed shots. The enemy pilot had meant to take him on his non-dominant side, trusting that Dave's aim was less accurate on that side. Unfortunately for the Alternian, Dave was left handed, and so he delivered his counter attack with deadly accuracy.

By this point, the other human pilots had advanced. Although a few were still locked in combat at the front, three or four ships had penetrated as deeply as Dave and now waged combat on those around him. John's pilot smirked as he observed, thrusting his ship up to survey the fight form above. He needed to find his target. His rival had to be there somewhere! And yet despite his attempts, he couldn't seem to spot the all-too-familiar ship. Had the pilot been injured? Killed?

"DAVE!"

Suddenly, Dave lurched forward. A shot had hit barely two feet behind his cockpit, and warning lights began flashing. "Where the fuck…?" Craning his neck quickly, he turned to see his opponent.

John swore profusely. He hadn't seen that attack coming. How had he missed a whole ship? Where was the enemy? He had just swept the area and seen nothing! But now! Now someone had fired and nearly killed his friend without warning. A quick glance at Dave's health monitors relieved some of John's fear, but he had to focus on the task at hand. Dave was calling to him.

"Where the fuck did he come from?" The question was panicked, and that was unlike Dave.

John flicked a few buttons, shifting his scanner on and turning one of his viewports towards the new threat. He swallowed hard.

It was a huge ship, unlike anything either human had seen before. Were it not for the scanner, it would have been impossible to tell where the pilot was. But a bright blob appeared from the inside, where the device had spotted the pilot. There was the Alternian that had almost killed Dave. They were huge, judging by their reading, bigger than any alien the boys had spotted before. Yet that was not what troubled John. His eyes were fixed on the readout of the abilities of the ship. Namely, his gaze stared pointedly at the most horrible words John had seen in his life:

"Unknown technology: unknown capabilities."

"Get out of there!" It was a full scream, and Dave heard the desperation behind the order. Clutching his controls, he shot his vessel forward. The monster's ship stuck on him, following the human pilot's moves expertly. Dave doubled his efforts, glancing down at the video feed of the enemy ship every few seconds. Dive, glance, twist, glance, weave, glance. And then suddenly Dave ascended and…it was gone! The place on his display where the ship had been was now empty. The vessel that chased him was nowhere in sight.

"What's going on?" He needed an answer. Dave had never been so terrified in his life. An unknown enemy coming from nowhere, then disappearing again! He didn't know what to think! Dave began scanning his viewports quickly, frantically. "Answer me, John! What the fuck is going on?"

But John merely gaped at the screen. Unlike Dave, who had had to focus on flying, on steering, he had kept his eyes on the enemy vessel at all times. He could scarcely believe what he had seen.

"Dave." The voice was panicked, quiet, shaking. "Dave, get out of there. Come back. Retreat. Now."

"But why? Where did he go?" It was just like the pilot to question an order to retreat. John saw that his warning was no use without a reason behind it. As much as he wanted to save his friend from the terror, he knew Dave would never cooperate until he knew why he needed to run. John swallowed and reported what seemed to the albino to be nearly a death sentence.

"It…Dave. That ship. It can go invisible."

A bolt fired at Dave from the right.

John screamed.

Dave swore.

And then, John's screen went black.


	2. Chapter 2

John couldn’t feel. His entire being was numb with shock, and for a split second, his brain left him. There was no thought, no planning, merely the fear that his pilot, that his best friend was gone for good. He gripped his headset desperately, calling out to his partner. “Dave! Dave, answer! Come in! DAVE!” 

When no response came, John’s hands curled into fists and slammed down towards his controls. They fazed right through the holographic keyboards, falling uselessly to John’s side. The lack of contact with a hard surface merely built his anxiety. Biting his lip, he started punching projected keys madly. Maybe there was just something wrong with the camera! Maybe that was it! Yet none of his attempted fixes made any difference, and his constant calling out for Dave continued to remain fruitless. 

With a frustrated grunt, the Monitor flipped his headset’s channel, calling out to the rest of the ships. The maneuver was unprecedented; it was expected that pilots would die in battle. Yet at this moment, in his time of panic, it was the only possibility John could imagine that would save Dave.

“TG002 is down! I repeat! Contact with TG002 has been lost! Last seen in the edge of zone three! Nearby units! I need a visual!” The words came pouring out, recited faster than anything John had broadcasted before. It would be a miracle if anyone could understand him. “I repeat! TG002 taken down by unknown enemy craft! Is there anyone in the vicinity? TG002! TG002 down!” John was close to hysterics now, and his breathing came in shallow gasps. Dave had to be safe. He _had_ to be!

A small eternity of silence passed between the end of John’s call for help and any foreseeable assistance. The other Monitors and pilots were busy attending to their own affairs; there was still a large fleet of Alternian ships to deal with. But John couldn’t give up. Three seconds…five… _“TG002 is fucking down!”_ Where was his assistance? Why did no one respond?

A deep breath rattled John’s frame. No one was responding. John had no visuals, no audio. It was completely hopeless. No one would come to Dave’s assistance. Bitter tears began to threaten as John stared hopelessly at his black screen. Reaching up, he flipped his headset back to his and Dave’s channel. 

“Hey…Dave? I…we’re sending help, okay? Just hold on…” Lies. They were all lies. But if Dave could hear him, if for some reason only the microphone in the ship had been destroyed, then there was a possibility that John’s words would bring him comfort. “There are people on their way…” If the hull had been breached, Dave had suffocated by now. “I’m sending in our best men.” He would be frozen. “They’re almost there.” No one would have heard his last scream in the vacuum of space. “Just hold on.” One more corpse burning up in one more atmosphere.

Just one more person slaughtered.

John couldn’t stop the tears from falling.

 

\---

 

The little Alternian monitor was instantly thankful he had thought ahead enough to disable his pilot’s microphone. That damn troll annoyed him half to death in person as it was! Ignoring the jabs from the monitor to his right was enough of a bother without having to juggle a pointless conversation with a half crazy pilot! The monitor hated every moment he spent at his station, yet here they were, once again, lined up in their ranks, awaiting the inevitable counter attack from the pathetic human ships. 

Karkat grabbed a gummy snack from his work station’s table and tossed it in his mouth. As dangerous as operations like this tended to be, he found that they were so routine and mundane that he didn’t entirely fear them anymore. Not a single one of his good friends had gone down in battle, so why should he care? Besides, the Alternians were winning the war. As much as Karkat hated to admit it, they had a great strategist at the head of their ranks, and the plans had so far proven complicated enough to keep the humans on the defensive. 

“If you keep eating like that, you’ll get fat.” The insult came from Karkat’s right. Of course. Where else would it come from? This was just another one of those standard pieces of daily life: the monitor had to deal with a shitty pilot, and he had to be insulted by the troll on his right.

“You should be more concerned about yourself!” The response was a weak set up, and Karkat knew it. He had been losing his edge when it came to comebacks recently, although he refused to admit it. “If you don’t stop tugging on your heaving yellow bulge like a madman to every fucking troll you see, you’ll wind up ripping that poor excuse for a reproductive organ off!”

“Reproductive organth.” Sollux smirked back at him from his station, holding up two fingers to illustrate his point. His other hand hovered above his red keyboard, typing idly. Sollux didn’t need to look at his work. “I think thomeone’th jutht jealouth. What’th wrong, kk? Ith your thingle bulge not thatithfactory for all of your many, many matethpritth?” 

A low growl escaped from Karkat’s lips, but he turned his eyes forward, focusing on his screen. As much as he absolutely adored insulting Sollux, the pilots were about to get into formation. He needed to pay attention. Skaia knew Karkat’s pilot couldn’t handle anything on his own anyway. As if to prove this point, the hulking mass of a ship controlled by his partner floated idly in space, several hundred meters away from the rest of the fleet.

“Gamzee! What is your fucking problem? Get the fuck over there and join the rest of our ships, you useless piece of grub shit!” Karkat raged into his microphone. The instant he was done, he pressed a button on his keyboard. It activated Gamzee’s microphone only for as long as Karkat wanted, and it was something he only used when direct responses were required. The monitor was nearly certain his pilot was unaware of the fact that he was often speaking to himself, but he found no need to break the news to him.

The response came slowly, as if Gamzee had had to digest Karkat’s words before speaking. “Aw, don’t worry, bro,” he drawled. “Sol-bro’s got me covered. I’m just all up and following the motherfuckin’ orders I got. Didn’t he tell you all about the wicked shit that’s about to go down? It’s gonna be a piece of motherfuckin’ magic, like some wild ass creature slamming through the ranks of the unknown, headed straight for that mountain of motherfuckin’ mirac-“

Karkat muted Gamzee’s microphone again. It was discourses like this that he simply couldn’t handle. Not in war time. It was bad enough that it took the pilot twice as long to speak as it did other normal beings; the fact that he rambled on and on was just icing on the intolerable, rotten cake.

“What the fuck is Gamzee talking about?” Karkat snapped at Sollux.

The other troll had returned to his post now, both hands moving independently on his two-toned keyboards. He didn’t bother to look up at the sound of the question. “Did you read the briefing, kk? I ekthplained all of it there.” 

He was preoccupied now, and it was obvious. Both of Sollux’s screens were projecting two separate images: one of the viewpoint of his red ship, and the other of his blue. Unlike the other Alternian forces, Sollux was both monitor and pilot. Instead of answering to a man out on the battlefield or to a troll back at headquarters, he controlled his two ships remotely from his position. The left side of his station was blue, and the right side was red, both corresponding with the ship that they controlled. It was up to him to manually fly both of them while still issuing orders.

Yes, as much as Karkat hated the fact, the “great strategist” for the Alternian fleet was in fact Sollux Captor.

“Theriouthly,” he muttered, eyes still glued to the screens. Instead of his normal combat ships, Sollux was instead piloting two surveillance crafts that blended in with the rest of the fleet. One passed over the ranks while the other laid in wait behind the fighting force. “You need to read thothe. It’th thort of what keepth uth all alive. Gz ith to thtay back and wait, okay?”

The condescendingly didactic tone that Sollux used with him made Karkat cringe, but he had no time to respond. The human ships had come in view, yet not a single one was moving from their formation. Karkat scanned the familiar vessels. There didn’t really seem to be anyone in his view that posed a threat. Of course there were several ships he had seen countless times before, but the two that caused the Alternians any sort of problems were absent.

Or so he thought, until the all-too-familiar red vessel broke formation and barreled right towards their ranks. From the feed from Gamzee’s ship, Karkat watched as the hostile fighter shot straight towards the back of the battalion. But before he could see the final outcome, Gamzee’s ship took off, flying away from the battle. 

“What the sweet suckling fuck are you doing?” The monitor slammed the unmute button so Gamzee could explain.

“Just following orders, Kar-bro.”

“I opened up a channel jutht with him. I hope that’th okay, kk,” Sollux uttered, eyes still on his screens. His surveillance crafts circled around the Human ranks, hunting out any sort of change in their technology or in their fighting tactics. He clearly found no such thing, for the strategist’s face showed his disappointment. 

“Of course it isn’t!” Karkat was livid. It was a direct violation of every sort of regulation to cut a monitor out of communication with his respective pilot. “Open your channel! I’m his monitor!” 

Sollux sighed and pressed a few buttons on the yellow keyboard in the middle of his station. This altered all basic operations relating to other Alternian forces. Karkat knew this, and the moment a single yellow button was pressed, he found himself tensing. Sollux wouldn’t. He wouldn’t _dare_.

“Here.” Karkat’s screen flashed, eliminating the video feed from Gamzee’s ship, and replacing it with the visual from one of Sollux’s surveillance crafts. “I need to monitor him right now. Play with that.” 

The blood rushed towards Karkat’s face, turning a bright, furious red. How dare Sollux undermine him like that? Strategist or not, this was unacceptable, unfair, unjust! “How fucking dare-“ he was cut off by the visual of an explosion somewhere in the corner of his new video feed. Shifting the pilot his new craft, the monitor clumsily turned it enough to see what was happening.

The red enemy ship was floating idly in space, a large chunk taken out of the right side of its hull. It must have been direct fire from an incredibly strong canon. Karkat gaped at the damage. There was no way the pilot survived that. That damn pest was dead. There was no doubt about it.

“Sollux, did Gamzee…?” Karkat couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen. He searched desperately to find the craft that had dealt such extreme devastation, but no matter what he tried, there was simply no other vessel in the area. “Who shot him…?” He would never admit it, but the monitor was in awe as he watched the destroyed red vessel float.

“It wath an ekthperiment I needed to tetht, kk. Top thecret.” Sollux was back to his controls now, muttering quickly under his breath into his microphone. What was he saying? Was he talking to Gamzee?

“Hey Sol, can I have that ba-“ he stopped short again. “Shit. Sollux!” It was there on his screen, completely unmistakable. “Sollux, look!” Mashing keys desperately, he aimed the camera on the surveillance craft at the anomaly. Yes, there was no mistaking it.

An orange ship was heading towards the ruined red vessel. An orange ship that had destroyed countless numbers in the Alternian ranks. “S-sollux!!” 

“What, kk??” The troll shoved off from his work station, wheeling towards Karkat to see what was on his screen. The minute he laid eyes on it, he swore below his breath.

Shooting his hand instantly up to his headset, Sollux altered the channel to broadcast to all troops. “All Alternian veththelth! Thith ith TA. Fall back cautiouthly! I repeat, fall back! Eyeth on the orange one!” 

Once the order was released, though, he shot back to his post, hands scrambling over keys on all three of his keyboards. Karkat just watched as his commander fumbled to prepare himself. “What’re you doing?” 

Sollux bit his lip, his hands and eyes moving at alarming rates. He ignored the question for a few seconds, until he was satisfied with his progress. Two new crafts filled his dual screens now, one blue, one red. They were his fighting units. “I’m arming againtht them. The red ship ith damaged. We can take out both of our biggetht enemieth in one fell thwoop. Here,” he added, punching a few yellow buttons. Instantly, Gamzee’s screen replaced the surveillance ship’s in Karkat’s station. “Prepare yourthelf, kk, becauthe you, gz, and I are about to end thith war.”


	3. Chapter 3

“GT002, come in. Pilot en route to TG002. I repeat: pilot en route to TG002.” 

A shock ran through John’s body, and he scrambled to change his headset’s channel. “Hello? Hello? This is GT002! You’re going to save Dave?” He could barely contain his excitement. Someone was headed to rescue his pilot! 

The headset crackled as he awaited the other’s response. He assumed the pause was due to the orders Dave’s saviors must be uttering back and forth to each other. Just a few more seconds passed before a response. “Yes, we’re headed towards him now. What’s your access code? We’ll give you our visual.” 

John nodded quickly and recited their password. “It’s ‘ill jams’. Dave came up with it.” The monitor was practically bouncing in his seat. All he could think of was the idea that Dave would be safe. He and his best friend would be able to talk again! Dave would be fine!

The screen at John’s station flickered for a few moments before suddenly broadcasting the signal from the rescuer’s vessel. He had apparently been patched into their channel as well, because he could hear the conversation the two soldiers were having.

“…towards the left,” the monitor was saying. “They’ve been uncharacteristically calm today. I wouldn’t give them half an inch or Lord knows they’ll walk all over you.” 

“Yeah, I see ‘em.” This was the pilot. Although his voice was calm, his vessel was completing incredibly difficult maneuvers, dodging in and out of the way of other space crafts, friend and foe alike. “It’ll be absolute insanity in about three fucking seconds. The moment we take to the battlefield shit goes wild, Jake.”

John blinked. The name triggered a thought, a sudden rush of memories. The pilot had called his monitor Jake. As in Jake English, alias GT001. And that meant that the man he was monitoring was the best damn soldier in the whole army: TT001, Dirk Strider. 

Dave’s older brother had come to the front line just to make sure he was safe.

John could barely contain himself. He was patched into the conversation between the single best team the humans had on their side. It was an experience of a lifetime and John did his best to soak up every single syllable they uttered; it was incredibly impressive the way they worked together, as if they were one being.

“I’m transferring the energy from your back shields into the thrusters of your craft, Dirk,” Jake recited. “I must say if we don’t arrive by your brother’s side shortly, we will have quite a complication on our hands. His poor Monitor is nearly beside himself as it were!”

A scoffing sound came from the older Strider as he sped towards Dave’s downed vessel. “Are you there, monitor? John, right?” He didn’t wait for an answer, which was convenient because John doubted his ability to speak for fear of embarrassing himself. “Listen to me: in about five minutes Dave will be back and in impeccable shape. It’ll be like out of a movie.” His craft dodged an oncoming blast with ease, retaliating with a shot of its own which hit his opposition right in the barrel of its weapon, rendering the canon useless. “The lead’s best friend goes down in a ball of flames – an atomic mushroom cloud and everything - but he somehow inexplicably shows up in the ending scene with nothing but some gauze soaked in Neosporin taped to a half-healed cut on his forehead-“

“Dirk, to your…” Jake began, but the warning was unnecessary. Dirk had already entered into a barrel roll to avoid the blast aimed at him. He was being tailed by several enemy vessels, but he continued on as if nothing even mildly stressful was happening:

“Then you can cry by his bedside and exchange a friendly smile before you realize the moral is something about how much you absolutely need your closest acquaintances in your time of tribulation.” He came out of his roll, and John watched as the craft’s energy shifted at Jake’s command, filling Dirk’s front right canon, and leaving his back shield completely down. It was a risky move, but John was certain it was one that the two had rehearsed several times before, because the second the shift was complete, Dirk let off three expertly-aimed shots, striking each one of his pursuers. He was almost to Dave’s ship now. He had to make sure there would be no complications during the rescue.   
John glanced around the screens broadcasting Dirk’s point of view. The entire area around him was completely devoid of enemy ships. He had actually managed to evade or eliminate all hostile troops in the area. He had a straight shot to Dave.

John watched with bated breath as they neared the red craft. The entire right side had been devastated by the shot that John had tried to warn Dave about. Wires and sickening, twisted metal protruded into the blackness of space, revealing a gutted, singed interior. Had there been any air in space, John was certain Dave’s ship would have been ablaze by now, as little beads of flammable liquid kept drifting from the wreckage and into the darkness. The fact that none of those beads were the color of blood was the only thing keeping John sane. He had yet to get a decent look at the condition the cockpit was in. There was still hope.

“Slow up there, Dirk. You don’t want to crush the poor thing.” Jake shifted some of the power from the canons to the thrusters, only for his pilot to immediately begin slowing his vessel. “Gotta be all ginger and careful about this one…”

Dirk remained silent, and John watched, helpless, as Jake took over from here. Opening an emergency hatch on the bottom of the orange ship, Jake extended down their tow line. The magnets activated automatically the moment they were clear of the danger of reattaching to their source. Instead, they stuck hard to the hull of Dave’s vessel, allowing for Dirk to reel in his line and tug Dave right beneath his own craft.

“We’ve got him,” Jake whispered, his voice on edge. They may have had the ship, but there was no telling what condition its pilot was in.

John shifted in his chair impatiently. “Is there any way we can hack into his vital monitors?” He wanted, more than anything, to know that Dave was alive and well. Although they had only been without contact for less than fifteen minutes, it was impossible for the Monitor not to worry about his downed pilot.

“I’ll try,” was the response from Jake. It was uncertain, cautious, and rightfully so, as remotely hacking the systems in a powered-down ship was a daunting task to undertake. Still, John was adamant. 

“We can’t move him until we know how he’s doing!” He knew he was right, and soon after, Jake extended another magnet to attach to Dave’s wreckage. This one was a more advanced tool, one that could allow access to the many functions of the craft, if the correct password and information were entered. But they had an advantage. It was standard for the Monitor and Pilot to be the only two with the knowledge of how to gain access to the internal workings of their particular vessel. It forced a sort of trust between the two parties, one that was important on the battlefield. And so, John quickly recited his passwords and information to Jake, watching his screens intently in the hopes that Dave’s vital information would soon appear.

The first information they gained was redundant: the ship was in need of repair, but the emergency lights were on. (Their red hue had been impossible to spot from the exterior due to the color of Dave’s craft.) Yet the final bit of information caused John to let out a small sigh. The oxygen levels inside the ship were depleted, but high enough that Dave had air to last him for at least ten more minutes. The return trip to the station was half that time; if the pilot was merely unconscious, he would be safe.

But that had yet to be seen. It took a few more seconds of direction from John to Jake to gain access to information on Dave’s vital signs. And then, all at once, the data flooded John’s screen. Heart rate, blood pressure, stress levels…they weren’t perfect, but there was one thing for certain.

Dave was still alive.

John let out a cry of joy, feeling tears well up in his eyes. That had been too close of a call. His best friend was safe, but he had to make sure that never happened again. As Dave’s monitor he needed to-

“Fucking hell.” 

John’s elation disappeared. His eyes shot to the viewport on Dirk’s ship, only to find the cause of alarm all too easily. Heading directly towards the linked ships were two small Alternian fighter vessels, one blue, and one red. John faintly heard rushed instructions as Dirk and Jake scrambled to shift power from various parts of the ship. 

Their strategy was useless, for in between the two smaller vessels a black, hulking craft materialized from the darkness. It was the pilot that had injured Dave, the one with the cloaking device. 

Three Alternian ships against one Human vessel. 

And Dave only had nine minutes of air left.


End file.
